The Little Girl
by IceDragonsFlame
Summary: This is the new, edited, one-shot verison of "The Little Girl"-also authored by me. During her 7th year, Lily recalls her tragic childhood to James. T for talk of drug/alcohol abuse, and death.


"**The Little Girl"  
**By: LunaBella006

**Note:** This story was originally posted May 27, 2005. I had intended to make it a longer fic, but since its been three years without an update, I doubt it will ever happen. So, finally, I've gone back and made some serious critiques. And it will now be a one-shot. I apologize if this upsets anybody, but its been three years; and I have no idea where I intended to take this or where to make it go. So a one-shot it shall be.

**Note 2:** I do not own anything that has to do with the Harry Potter universe. All that credit belongs to J.K. Rowling. Nor do I own the lyrics, those belong to John Michael Montgomery.

Lily Evans, current Head Girl, sat alone in the Heads common room. She was deep in thought, staring blankly into the roaring fire in front of her squishy armchair. She was remembering _that_ night. The night _it_ happened. Tonight was the thirteenth year anniversary.

Coming out from her thoughts, she felt someone, or thing, looking right at her. She always knew when someone was looking at her; years of neglect did that to a person. Turning around slowly her emerald eyes locked with the hazel ones of James Potter, her co-head.

After breaking their connected gaze, she turned back to the fire, waiting for the questions. Willing them to come; for she needed to tell someone. Anyone would do, even James Potter.

"Lily, what are you still doing up? Feeling okay?" He asked, moving to sit in the armchair next to hers.

"I can't sleep, I never can on this night. And I'm not okay," she replied, her voice wispy.

"Why not?"

There it was, He was the only person in all the thirteen years to ask why.

"My parents died thirteen years ago tonight."

"Oh- Lily. I'm so sorry. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I'll just-"

Lily cut him off, "I don't want to do a lot of things, but this isn't about wanting. It's about needing. I _need_ to tell somebody."

'I'm here to listen, if you'd like to tell me.."

**Her parents never took the young girl to church,  
****Never spoke of His name,  
Never read her His word.  
Two non-believers walking lost in this world,  
Took their baby with them,  
What a sad little girl.**

"My parents.. They didn't follow religion, like most people did. They'd both had bad lives, I guess. They left their lives prior to each other behind. I never met my grandparents, or any other relatives. I think they hated each other, actually. I think they were only together, living under the same roof, because of me. Because on some level they both loved me, and their only way of showing it was to give me a 'whole' home. Ha! Whole, what a joke. Since they didn't believe in God, I didn't attend Sunday School. In fact, I didn't go to any type of school at all."

**Her daddy drank all day and mommy did drugs.  
Never wanted to play,  
Or give kisses and hugs.  
She'd watch the TV and sit there on the couch,  
While her mom fell asleep,  
And her daddy went out.**

"They were so unhappy, being together, that Dad was hardly home. And when he was, they were fighting and hitting each other. But they never yelled or hit me, I think that was how they showed their love for me. But then again, they hardly paid any attention to me. Mum never played games with me, or did anything. She was so high that she just passed out for most of the day."

**And the drinking and the fighting,  
Just got worse every night.  
Behind their couch, she'd be hiding:  
****Oh, what a sad little life.**

"The more Daddy drank, the worse the fights were. And I'd just sit there, behind our living room couch. And they were so involved in their fight, that they never new I was there."

**And like it always does, the bad just got worse,  
With every slap,  
And every curse.  
Until her daddy, in a drunk rage one night,  
Used a gun on her mom,  
And then took his life.**

"Of course it got worse. So much worse. Mum had bruises on top of healing bruises. Thirteen years ago tonight, Dad got really drunk. And in the middle of their, seemingly normal, fight Dad got really angry. I don't remember seeing him that angry, ever. He-he took out a gun, and he shot Mum. He killed my mum and then himself. And I just sat there, behind our couch the whole time."

**And some people from the city,  
Took the girl far away.  
To a new mom and dad:  
Kisses and hugs everyday.**

"Our neighbors heard the gun fire, and they called the cops. They knew I existed, although they had never done anything before. They saw me outside a lot, and knew I never got hit or anything. So they never bothered to report my parents. But the gunshots scared them, I guess. The police came, and brought Child Services with them. They took me away, to a new family, the Evans's. And they showered me with affection. They knew I existed, they paid attention to me."

**Her first day of Sunday school the teacher walked in,  
And a small little girl,  
Stared a picture of Him.  
She said I know that man up there on that cross,  
I don't know His name,  
****But I know He got off.**

"The Evans's believed in God, and education. And all the things my real parents never did. I still remember seeing Jesus for the first time. It was my first Sunday School class. I had looked up above the teachers head, and saw Him hung on that cross. I knew who He was, and I felt special, intelligent, because I actually knew something."

**'Cause he was there in my old house  
And held me close to His side.  
As I hid there, behind our couch,  
The night that my parents died.**

"I told my teacher. And she asked how I knew, it was on my records that I had never attended anything religious, so she figured it was impossible that I did. Probably thought I was lying. I told her, and all the other kids, 'I know Him because he was with me, holding me, when my parents died.' He had been protecting me."

Finally finished, just as the clock struck midnight, Lily felt like a weight had been lifted. It felt good to finally be rid of that burden.

**End Notes:** This takes place sometime after January of Lily's seventh year, meaning she's eighteen. That makes her five when her parents died, which is around the time when children start Sunday School (at least, that's the age I started).


End file.
